Hearts Aflutter
by Billy4Me
Summary: Challenge response. What made a college student suddenly die during a game of "Spin the Bottle"? GS


**A/N:** This is a response to Cincoflex's challenge on YTDAW. The elements include a tube of pink lipstick, the quote "Josephine and Alice told me so," a crime scene recreation involving the CSIs teaching Grissom to play "Spin the Bottle," and it must be set in the lab (OK, so I blew that one in the beginning – forgive me!).

In case anyone is wondering, I'm not abandoning "A Sense of Balance." For whatever reason, I really love that story. :-) I'm still working on the next chapter, but Cincoflex's challenge was just too intriguing to ignore. Plus, it actually gave me the opportunity to write "The End" at the bottom of the page. Too much temptation to ignore. :-)

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer:** The only _CSI:_-related things I own are my DVDs and the Companion Guide. And I feel incredibly grateful for those. :-)

And I guess I should also disclaim the fact that this story is pretty OOC for all involved. Hey, what do you expect? They're playing "Spin the Bottle," guys! :-)

**Hearts Aflutter**

Catherine carefully pulled the tube of lipstick from the depths of the purse with a gloved hand. Uncapping it slowly, she glanced at her colleague crouched beside a steel cage on the other side of the room. "Pink. Same shade the vic was wearing."

Grissom nodded, never taking his eyes off the contents of the cage. Opening the door gently, he reached inside as the blonde CSI continued to paw through the scant contents of Rebeka Riddle's handbag. "And it was the only lipstick she had," Catherine added, shaking her head as she wondered how it was even possible that any modern woman could survive with only one lipstick, a container of mascara, and a small bottle of foundation. "How can she only own _one_ lipstick?"

"Well, maybe that was all she needed," he replied, slightly perplexed as to exactly why multiple lipsticks would be necessary. He lifted the furry bundle from the cage, inspecting it closely before grabbing the other squirming mass. "Hey, Cath?"

"Yeah?" she replied absently, her attention now focused on the victim's journal, which had been nestled underneath some textbooks in a desk drawer.

"I think Rebeka Riddle had some sort of illness."

That got her attention. "What? How do you know?" She whirled to face him, and her jaw dropped at the sight of Gil Grissom holding two small rabbits.

His mouth quirked upward at her dumbfounded expression, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Gesturing toward her slightly with bunny-filled hands, he responded, "Josephine and Alice told me so."

"Huh?" He hadn't thought it possible for Catherine to look any more confused, and he had to bite back a grin as he dropped Josephine back into the cage.

Pulling up the oversized collar that encircled Alice's neck, he cocked his head and looked at his partner. "'Property of Desert Palm Hospital Pet Therapy Department,'" he read. "Pet therapy is often done to boost the spirits of those with long-term illness. It's thought that, if their mental state is improved, their physical well-being will follow."

"Mind over matter?" she questioned, the confusion slowly dissipating as understanding dawned. "Makes sense to me."

She pushed the desk drawer shut and bagged the journal before turning around to face Grissom. Watching as he locked the cage, she then looked around the tiny abode one final time in search of unnoticed evidence. "Long-term illness, huh? Maybe that'll help explain why a 19-year-old college freshman would suddenly die in the middle of a game of 'Spin the Bottle,'" she said. Or perhaps the collection of bagged items on the desk would provide them some clue. Time would tell.

"What exactly _is_ 'Spin the Bottle' anyway?" He sounded genuinely baffled as he stood with a tiny wince. His knees were aching. They always pained him on rainy days, and crouching didn't help matters any.

She grinned as she gathered the evidence bags. "Really, Gil, you have to get out more." The annoyed glare he shot her only made her laugh out loud.

He swept his flashlight across the room one last time before clicking it off and reaching for the steel cage. Balancing its weight carefully in his right hand, he picked up his field kit with his left and looked up at Catherine. "Ready?"

"Yep," she agreed. "See you back at the lab," she called to his retreating back and, off his nod, she switched off the light before she trailed behind him. The door closed with a quiet click that reverberated loudly off the cinderblock walls in the empty room.

XXXXXXXXX

Grissom entered the common area of the dormitory just as Sara was collecting a DNA sample from D.J. Hildenstern. Coming to stand just behind her next to Brass, he watched in silent consternation as the young man eyed her salaciously while she capped the swab and labeled it carefully.

"So..." D.J. began, with all the braggadocio of a big man on campus. He waited until she looked up at him before continuing. "I gave you a sample of _my_ DNA. It's only fair that you swap me some of yours."

Grissom rolled his eyes at the young man's audacity. He couldn't blame him for his interest, but the sheer dreadfulness of the pick-up line made him wince for men anywhere who had ever tried to get a second glance from a beautiful woman. _This idiot is the reason women find it difficult to take us seriously_.

Sara stared at D.J., unwilling to believe that this college punk had just made such a ridiculous statement. When he only grinned with confidence as though she would actually consider such an offer, she smiled mirthlessly. "Well, D.J., I don't think that's such a good idea. See, DNA is fragile. It needs to be handled by a competent man. Not an _impotent boy_." She stressed the last words and finished with a syrupy smile that grew even larger as his grin fell.

Over her shoulder, Brass snorted and gestured with his head toward the door leading to the men's section of the dorm. "That's it for now, Casanova, but we'll be calling you if we need anything else." The young man nodded wordlessly and walked quickly to the door, looking for all the world like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Brass chuckled as she tossed the last of the DNA samples into her field kit. "I think he left his male ego here on the floor somewhere after you stomped on it, Sara. 'Impotent boy'? Ouch! Remind me never to get on your bad side."

She shrugged but smiled slightly as she latched the kit. "Just don't approach me with such a bad come-on, and I think we'll be OK," she grinned.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Point taken," he said. "Got everything you need?" He directed the question to both CSIs, receiving dual nods in reply. "OK, I'll catch up with you both later."

Sara glanced at Grissom, her eyebrow rising automatically at the sight of the rabbit cage in his hand but, when he volunteered no information, she shrugged it off, pushing open the dormitory door to begin the shaded walk to the SUV in clipped, angry steps.

Curious, Grissom tilted his head to the side as he followed her down the sidewalk. "You OK?" he queried.

She nodded. "Yeah. It just irritates me that an idiot like that thinks I'd hop into bed with him at all, let alone after a pick-up line like that! Ugh," she huffed. "It was bad enough I had to deal with that juvenile stuff when I was in college. I can't believe I'm still getting hit on by the same frat boys fifteen years later! Do I really look that desperate?"

He wasn't sure how to respond or if her question was simply a rhetorical one. It surprised him nearly as much as it did her when he said, "Maybe he was just shooting for the moon and didn't really know how to go about it."

She froze in her tracks, speechlessly watching him continue down the tree-lined path toward their vehicle. Shaking her head, she gripped the evidence bags a little tighter as she followed, only slightly more confused than she previously had been.

XXXXXXXXX

Grissom took his seat in the break room, only glancing up from the document he was reading long enough to assure his team was present and accounted for. He nodded to Brass, who was seated at the opposite end of the table blowing on a steaming mug of coffee.

The supervisor perused the remainder of the autopsy report and set it aside with a sigh. "Well, we now know the cause of death was cardiac arrest. Heart attack," he clarified with a nod, prompting incredulous stares from the team.

"A heart attack?" Nick was the one who voiced their collective thoughts. "In a 19-year-old kid?"

"She had congestive heart failure, caused by a congenital abnormality that weakened the cardiac muscle. It was so severe that she was on the transplant list," their boss replied, picking up the report and waving it at them as though it held the answers to life's mysteries. And, in a way, it did, at least to Rebeka's life.

"But she hadn't had any symptoms lately, at least not according to her best friend Ashley Martin," Sara retorted. Grissom met her eyes, only slightly surprised that she had obviously known about the victim's illness. "Ashley said she'd been doing well, only a little shortness of breath when she walked too far. And Rebeka would rest for a minute and then she'd be OK. So what made her have a heart attack?"

"You're right." Grissom ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "If she wasn't having symptoms lately, it's unlikely that a heart attack would have occurred out of the blue. There must have been something that caused stress on the heart."

For a moment, the room was silent as they contemplated the unasked question. Catherine's brow furrowed in thought as she pieced together the pieces of evidence she had seen. Pink lipstick on the victim... Almost there...

Grissom broke the silence. "OK, let's play it out," he said. "There's a group of kids in the common area playing 'Spin the Bottle,' whatever that is."

The comment prompted guffaws from nearly everyone at the table, but Grissom ignored them. "So who was there?"

Catherine tuned him out as her mind sorted through the available clues. The journal with its unabashed revelations of a young woman's innermost thoughts... Almost there...

Sara glanced down at the list she had gotten from her early questioning of witnesses. "Ashley Martin, the aforementioned friend. Jennifer Fox, Ashley's roommate. Troy Rose, D.J. Hildenstern, and Buck Chaffee from the male side of the dorm. And, of course, Rebeka Riddle."

"OK," Grissom said. "Six witnesses, seven of us. Who wants out?"

"Thanks, but I'll just be an observer this time," Brass spoke up quickly. He grinned at the disappointed looks of the others.

A crush on a boy... There. Catherine looked up sharply as the pieces fell rapidly into place, and she saw the puzzle in its completed state with startling clarity.

Grissom continued, "OK, Sara, you be Rebeka. Catherine, you can be Ashley Martin. Nick and Warrick, you take D.J. and Buck. I will act the part of Troy Rose and Greg, you get to be Jennifer." Grissom's voice carried an air of finality as he turned to look at the younger CSI, daring him to disagree.

"No!" The urgency in Catherine's voice caused them all to stop and look at her. Her face pinkened slightly in response, but she continued, "Um, Gil, you should be Buck. Warrick can play Troy instead." Grissom stared at her in confusion, but she preempted his question. "Just trust me."

With a shrug, he said, "Fine. What happened first?"

Sara responded. "Jennifer brought the bottle." She smirked at Greg, who reached for the bagged Coke bottle on the floor next to him.

With a mischievous wink, the rookie CSI looked at Sara as he said, "I'm always the life of the party."

"Not _this_ party," his supervisor snapped, and the young man sat back in his seat, appropriately cowed. "Can someone please explain to me exactly what our college students were doing?" Nick and Warrick exchanged amused glances.

Catherine rolled her eyes at his naïvete and patiently explained the rules of the game to her overly sheltered friend. "Gil, the object of the game is to kiss other people. You spin the bottle and swap spit with whoever it points to." To illustrate her point, she twirled the plastic-encased bottle. It came to a stop with its neck pointing to Greg, who looked up at her hopefully. "Of course, if it lands on a person of the same sex, _Jennifer_," she said pointedly to her younger colleague, "you're not obligated to comply." She grinned when the younger man's face fell.

"I see," Grissom replied thoughtfully. "So what happened next?"

Sara glanced down at her notes. "According to Jennifer, she spun the bottle first, and it landed on Rebeka. After they exercised the same-sex opt-out privilege," she grinned at an utterly crestfallen Greg, "it was Rebeka's turn." She reached for the bottle, her eyes still scanning her notes.

The brunette's head shot up quickly, her face closely resembling the proverbial deer in headlights, eyes wide as saucers. Catherine pursed her lips to prevent the smile from forming and glanced over Sara's shoulder to read aloud what she already knew was there. "It landed on Buck."

Grissom glanced up sharply, his eyes darting quickly from her to Sara. Catherine had always wondered what an embarrassed Gil Grissom would look like, and the sight was not disappointing. Though the beard hid the redness of his cheeks, the pink tint that grew on his ears was gratifying in its own right, and the blonde pressed her lips together tightly to prevent the smile that threatened to form.

He spoke quietly, his voice faltering slightly. "Um, OK, then what?"

"Then what? Didn't I just explain the rules?" Catherine was incredulous. Studying his astonished expression, she practically yelled, "He kissed her, Gil!"

Grissom's eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a warning quality as he retorted, "I realize that, Catherine. But we don't have to act out every minute detail here."

"Oh, but I think we do," she replied, forcing herself to speak calmly. This was exactly how it had happened, she knew it with every fiber of her being. And she could prove it, but only if they played along. She took a deep breath before speaking in measured tones. "Because Buck was the only one she kissed."

It was a gamble. She had no idea if it was true, but it was consistent with her theory. And, more importantly, it was the most convincing argument she had. When Sara didn't contradict her, she let out a quiet breath of relief.

Grissom sighed, his annoyance and mortification manifesting themselves in verbal form. He wasn't really sure exactly how he had gotten into this situation, and his quick mind frantically searched for a reasonable way out. When he lit upon the idea of planting a kiss on Sara's forehead, his eyes lit up.

But Catherine saw it and cut him off. "And no little pecks. This needs to be _authentic_, Gil. A real kiss like you would with a woman you're _interested_ in." She ignored the flabbergasted stares of the other occupants of the room as she eyed him intently, unwilling to back down from the challenge.

When Grissom dropped his eyes to the table, she knew her victory was complete. "Fine," he huffed, pushing himself up from his chair and reaching Sara's side in two long steps. Leaning a hand on each arm of her chair, he looked into her eyes as he spoke. "Sorry about this."

She stared at him, unable to believe this was really happening, hating Catherine and loving her at the same time, hating _him_ and loving him at the same time. "It's OK."

When his eyes fell to her lips, she felt lightheaded, and some remote part of her brain was glad she was already sitting when his mouth met hers. His lips were soft and warm on hers, and the kiss was infinitely more tender than any she had ever experienced, and the sensation only intensified when his hand moved to caress her cheek gently. She felt the blood whooshing in her ears and wondered vaguely if he could hear the hammering of her heart. Lost in the moment, she had no idea how long their kiss lasted, but she had to bite back a whimper when he grazed his tongue softly across her upper lip before he ended it.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped quietly at the limitless blue depth of emotion staring back at her. For that eternity in a moment, she could see him laid completely bare before her. Every emotion he felt in an instant and in a lifetime. Joy, desire, longing and, yes, even love.

Brass cleared his throat, and the moment was shattered into tiny shards of unrecognizable vulnerability. Grissom stood so quickly he nearly stumbled, and Sara swallowed hard as he made his way unsteadily back to his seat. The tension in the room was palpable as the supervisor dropped heavily into his chair.

Catherine's voice broke through the heavy emotion. "How do you feel, Sara?"

"Well, I'm not dead, if that's what you mean," the younger CSI snapped, irritated beyond belief that the older woman would willingly thrust her into such an awkward situation. _As if things weren't bad enough already with me and Grissom. Geez..._

"But _you_ don't have congestive heart failure," the blonde replied, her voice trimmed in triumph.

"Huh?" Sara's expression morphed from anger to bewilderment.

"Rebeka had feelings for Buck," she replied, as if that explained it all.

Warrick was the first to speak up. "How do you figure, Cath?"

The older woman smiled and reached down into the evidence pile, eventually finding the objects she wanted and holding one up. "Rebeka hardly ever wore makeup. So why was she wearing lipstick this evening?"

Nick grinned as he shook his head. "Maybe she wanted to look nice for whoever she kissed. Doesn't mean she had a thing for Buck."

"True," said Catherine, pulling the journal up from her lap. "But this tells me she did."

Opening the book carefully, she glanced around the room to ensure the attentions of those present before reading. "'I met a guy from the male side of the hall today. His name is Buck, and he's really smart but kind of shy and clueless. He's got this adorably curly hair and beautiful blue eyes. And glasses. He looks _so_ intelligent.'"

She grinned at her audience and, to a person, they rolled their eyes in response. "OK, fine, so none of you can appreciate good romance. Let me just skip ahead to today's entry," she said, flipping a few pages forward in the diary.

"Ah, here it is. 'Can't write long. Jennifer asked me to play "Spin the Bottle" in a few minutes, and Buck is going to be there. He is my dream man. If I get to kiss him, I'll just die.' Prophetic," she mused sadly. And, with that, she closed the book, her expression mimicking the others in a bittersweet mix of the joy of closing the case and the grief of a life lost.

Only Greg's expression was different. "I'm confused," he said, shaking his head. "I still don't see how kissing Buck killed her."

Catherine rolled her eyes in his direction exasperatedly. "Undue stress on the heart, Greg." When he only stared at her blankly, she heaved a frustrated sigh and decided to spell it out step by step. Glaring at him pointedly, she asked, "What happens to your heart when you kiss someone you have feelings for?"

Grissom's quiet reply surprised them all. "Your pulse races."

Five heads whipped in his direction at that admission, but Greg unwittingly saved him. "Oh, I get it!" the rookie exclaimed. "The increased pulse made her heart work harder, and it just couldn't take it."

His expression was sweetly triumphant, and Warrick clapped a big hand on his shoulder. "Good job, rook. Come on, let's go get some breakfast to celebrate. Your treat," he added with a finger pointed in Greg's face, prompting grins all around.

Grissom slowly packed up the autopsy report, watching his colleagues file out the door and casting occasional furtive glances in Sara's direction. She seemed shell-shocked by the course of events, and he spoke gently once they were alone. "Hey." When she looked up at him, he smiled. "You OK?"

She nodded, her expression glazed. "It's just sad, you know."

"I know," he agreed, his voice soft. "Ironic."

"Yeah," she said emphatically, meeting his gaze and knowing that he understood. "Her first kiss with the man of her dreams should have been something to be treasured, a memory to be cherished. She should have stored it up for use in the sad times of her life. Instead, it's the reason she died." She shook her head miserably.

"That's all true, Sara, but I think you're forgetting one thing."

She met his gaze then and was stunned to see the same emotions that had been there after their kiss. Barely able to breathe, she croaked out, "What?"

He held her eyes, drawing strength from the emotions he saw there. "I bet it was worth it."

"How can you say that?" she questioned.

"I can relate," he responded quietly, holding her gaze a few seconds longer before gathering the autopsy report under his arm and heading for his office. When he reached the door, he turned to look at her, only mildly surprised to find her still staring at him, a thunderstruck expression on her face. He smiled as he draped his right hand across the left side of his chest. "Be still, my heart," he intoned softly, and his smile widened in equal proportion to her eyes before he left the room.

The End 


End file.
